


When I Drive That Slow, You Know it's Hard to Steer

by spectaculacularsammy



Series: Not Unless Sam Says [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comeplay, Consensual Kink, Dean thinks he's not a sub but he is, Dean's Neck Sweat, Dean's a sassy bastard and I love that too, Dom!Sam, Edging, F/M, Hand Jobs, Impala is your safeword, Masturbation, No Wincest, Orgasm Denial, Sam calls you 'little girl', Sam's Neck Sweat, Sam's bossy - it's beautiful, Sam's got a dirty mouth and I love it, Spanking, Vaginal Fingering, You call Dean 'good boy', creative ways to distract one's self while edging, just a little bit of anal fingering/teasing, my brain is mush and this is all I can think of, sub!Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 14:10:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3384596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spectaculacularsammy/pseuds/spectaculacularsammy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam likes to play with you; he likes control, obedience, and giving instructions. When you follow the rules, you get rewards. Let’s see how well Dean plays this time.</p><p>This is a continuation of the first three chapters of this fic. It’s recommended that you read those three chapters, but it’s not entirely necessary – just fun. </p><p>Title from<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RvV3nn_de2k%20"> <i>I Can’t Drive 55</i></a>, by Sammy Hagar</p>
            </blockquote>





	When I Drive That Slow, You Know it's Hard to Steer

You're lost in a random lore book, sitting at the table next Sam and across from Dean, eating your breakfast.

Dean's drinking a cup of coffee and reading newspapers on Sam’s laptop.

Sam keeps looking back and forth between you and Dean, and you’re both trying not to notice.

"Dammit, Sammy!" Dean slams the laptop closed when he can’t stand it anymore. “Why are you givin’ me The Sasquatch Stare Down?”

Sam chuckles. “Just thinkin’ about something.”

“Care to share with the rest of the damn class?”

“Sure. Did you enjoy yourself when you fucked _______ a few weeks ago?”

Your eyes go wide, and Dean chokes on his coffee. “Wow! I sure as hell was _not_ expecting that.”

Sam grins. “What _were_ you expecting?”

“I don’t know, but not _that_!” Dean wipes his face on a napkin and tosses a quick questioning glance to you, but you answer with a shrug of your shoulders because you have no idea where Sam’s going with this.

“I’ll asks again. Did you enjoy yourself when you --”

“Jesus,” Dean interrupts. “I heard you the first damn time.

“Well?”

“Sammy, that was… You just can’t...”

“It’s a simple question, Dean. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know the answer.”

Dean shifts in his chair. “Well, _yeah_ … But…”

“I thought so.” Then Sam looks to you. “And what about you, _little girl_?”

Dean’s still shifting in his chair, but now he lets out a heavy breath.

You know when Sam addresses you as “little girl” or any variation of it, he expects you to answer honestly and properly. You do, but your cheeks flush. “Yes, Sam.”

“Very good,” he praises you and gently touches the side of your face. “Go get the blue sheet. Dean’s bed. Clothes off.”

You know from how long you’ve been with Sam, that this is the place where he wants you to use the safe word if you’re not comfortable, and of course you can use it at any other time, too, but right now, you don’t. Why? Because last time was hot, and Sam wouldn’t have suggested it if he didn’t _appreciate_ the situation, either. So, you stand up from the table and begin your walk down to Sam’s bedroom, but you stop when he traces his fingers up your shoulder, down the outside curve of your breast, rib cage, trailing off at your hip. When you shiver at his touch, you can feel the skin around your nipples tighten, and obviously this shows through your shirt, because Sam’s eyes drift down to your chest.

“We’ll be down there, shortly,” Sam says in a heavy voice, that he _knows_ is sexy as hell.

In just a whisper, you nod your head and say, “Yes, Sam.” He gives you a sideways smirk, and you walk down to Sam’s bedroom to get the blue sheet, prepared to follow his every instruction.

When you’re out of the room, Dean fidgets with his coffee cup, and then crosses his arms over his chest. “Look, man, I don’t wanna --”

“This is where I do the talking,” Sam cuts in.

“I’m not your damn _sub_ , or whatever the fuck you call it! You and ______ wanna play your kinky little games, be my guest. They’re hot as hell, and I’ll give you credit there, but you said _that_ was a one-time thing.”

Sam smirks. “Are you done?”

Leaning back in his chair, Dean crosses his arms again. "Yeah.”

“Do you want me to go get ______ out of your room?”

“We doin’ the same thing we did last time?”

Sam stands up from the table and repeats himself, “Do you want me to go get ______ out of your room?”

“I’m not sayin’ ‘Yes, Sam.’”

“Never said you had to.” Sam starts to walk down the hallway.

“I’m not askin’ you if I can come.” Dean follows his brother.

“Then you better wait until I say you can.”

“You are seriously messed --”

“Before you finish that sentence, remind yourself that _I’m_ not the one who’s got a raging hard-on from hearing his brother talk.”

“Gross!” Dean shoves Sam. “Dude, that’s _not_ why… I _don’t_ have a…” He rubs his face. “This is so fucked up.”

“Jeez, calm down.” Sam laughs. “Look, this is how we play. When she’s good, she gets rewards, and I could tell she liked her reward from a few weeks ago. I like when she’s happy; _it turns me on_ when she’s happy, and I just want to try something out. You both do what I say, and we can do this again. Got it?”

“And _______’s okay with this?”

“Trust me, I _know_ she is, but if for some reason I’m wrong and she’s not, she’ll tell me. I don’t _make_ her do anything.”

“Fine.”

“What’s the safe word, Dean?”

Dean wrinkles up his face and gives his brother a look of disgust, but Sam doesn’t fold, so Dean rolls his eyes and lets out an annoyed sigh. “Impala. Jesus, why did it have to be _my_ car?”

Sam snickers. “Do you _really_ wanna know?”

It’s Dean’s turn for his eyes to go wide. “You fuckin’ better not have!”

Sam shrugs with a smirk on his face and opens the door to Dean’s bedroom.

*//*

Just like Sam asked, you got the dark blue sheet from the drawer of his dresser and brought it down to Dean’s bedroom. As you unbutton your shirts and fold them neatly, you look around the room. It’s not the first time you’ve been in here, but it’s the first time _this_ has ever happened in here.

When all your clothes are in a neat pile on top of Dean’s dresser, you lie back on Dean’s bed and rest your head on his pillows, then spread the sheet over your body. Dean’s mattress is softer than Sam’s.

“Memory Foam, it _remembers_ me,” Dean had once bragged, excitedly.

Dean’s pillows are soft, and they smell just like him: slightly spicy, in contrast to Sam, who smells warm and musky. You lie back on Dean’s pillows and wait for Sam.

After few minutes of twisting the sheet through your fingers, pressing your thighs together to get the tiniest traces of friction on the place that’s aching between your legs, and trying to keep your breathing steady, Sam walks in Dean’s room and sits down on the chair at the end of the bed. Dean’s right behind him, and he stands at the end corner of his bed, looking a bit flustered, and if you didn’t know better, you’d say the tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks are a little pink.

“So,” Sam starts, and you sit up on the bed with the blue sheet wrapped around you. “I think we can all agree on the fact that the other week’s events were… _enjoyable_.” Dean tries to covertly adjust his jeans, and Sam continues. “Before we start anything, let me just make one thing clear.” Sam meets Dean’s eyes. “She’s _mine_. Got it?”

Dean nods his head, but Sam raises his eyebrow questionably. Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I got it, but I’m not sayin’ --”

“Yes, Sam,” you answer with a smirk on your face that’s directed toward Dean. You didn’t hear the conversation they had earlier, but it’s obvious what Dean doesn’t want to say.

“Good girl,” Sam praises you and leans back in his chair. “Before we do anything like last time, I need to see how well Dean can take instruction. _If_ you do _exactly_ as I say, and if this works out, rewards will be given.”

You nod your head to Sam, and out of the corner of your eye you see Dean start to take off his shirt. You slightly shake your head and mouth silently to him, _Sam didn’t say_.

Dean rolls his eyes, lets go of the hem of his shirt, and his arms fall to his sides. Sam snickers and says to Dean, “Go ahead.” Dean rolls his eyes again, and after he sheds his clothes, he climbs up on the bed next to you. “Safe word?” Sam asks.

“Impala,” you obediently say at the same time as Dean, who groans the word in an annoyed tone. Sam ignores Dean’s tone.

“Good. ______, sheet off whenever you’re ready,” Sam tells you. You lay back on Dean’s pillows and push the sheet away. “It’s not gonna to take much.” Sam smirks. “But get him ready, _just_ don’t touch his cock. You can touch anything, _except_ for that.”

Dean lets out a quiet groan and lies back on the pillow next to you, so you roll over and face him. His cock is hard as a rock and already dripping, but you know you can’t touch it, so you lean in and kiss the corner of Dean’s mouth. He moans and tries to turn his face to you, to kiss you back, but you pull away; Sam didn’t say, and this time’s all about doing _exactly_ as Sam says.

Sam chuckles darkly. “Good girl.” You look over at Sam and see that his eyes are dark. You see that sheen of sweat is already starting on his neck, and if his shirt wasn’t in the way, you know you’d see it on his chest, too. “Go ahead,” Sam encourages you. “Move his arms above his head. Dean, no touching.”

A sound that can only be explained as a whine, falls from Dean’s mouth when your hand drags up the underside of Dean’s arms, as you pull them up on the pillows above his head. You kiss the smooth white skin just above his arm pit, then move down to his jaw. Your tongue drags on the stubble of his neck and chin, and when you softly kiss his lips, another little groan comes out of his mouth, but he doesn’t kiss you back.

“Good boy,” you whisper, and Dean’s little groan comes out louder.

Even though you haven’t touched him below the neck, Dean’s hips are gently rolling, and when you look down at his hard and red cock, you see a small puddle of precome forming on his stomach. You lightly brush your hand down Dean’s chest, over each of his hard nipples, which causes Dean’s hips to buck up even further, and you drag your finger through the warm puddle.

With slick fingers, you slide your fingers over Dean’s hip bones, and he pulls in a sharp breath between his teeth. You trace the creases of his thighs and groin while you look up at Sam, who has a dark grin on his face.

Sam’s forehead and neck are gleaming with sweat, and his chest is rising and falling with rapid breaths; all you want to do is nose at the damp skin and lick it into your mouth.

Sam’s eyes are locked with yours, He knows what you’re thinking, but he says, “Keep going, little girl; touch anything you want, just not his cock.”

“Yes, Sam,” you answer, letting your eyes run over the huge bulge in Sam’s jeans before you kneel down between Dean’s knees.

Dean’s eyes pop open and look down on you when your fingers barely touch the insides of his thighs and roam down to the back of his knees. You lift Dean’s leg up, so that his knee is bent, and he gets the idea, so he does the other leg himself.

Bending yourself over, grinning at the appreciative groan Sam lets out at your ass up in the air, you carefully lick one Dean’s balls, and he moans deeply.

“You gonna come, Dean?” Sam asks, and you can _hear_ the smirk on his face.

Dean’s hands wrap tightly around his cotton pillow case while he shakes his head and grunts out through gritted teeth, “No.”

“’Cause if you are, ______ can wrap her fingers around the base of your --”

“Did I fuckin’ use the safe word? No! Jesus…”

Sam grins and shrugs his shoulders, and you lightly kiss the inside of Dean’s thigh up to his groin.

“Dean,” you whisper when you notice his face is starting to turn a little red. “You _need_ to breathe.” You lick up Dean’s sac, careful not to touch his cock, and he obediently breathes in a ragged breath, then slowly lets it back out. “Good, just like that. Now, do it again.”

With, what seems like great determination, Dean continues to breathe rough and deep, so you continue to lap at his balls, then gently suck one into your mouth. His hips buck up off the bed, and you hear him bite off a loud whiny groan, so you take your mouth away.

Still on your knees, you stretch up Dean’s body, kissing up his abs, then his chest, then swirling your tongue around one of his nipples. He whines when you drag your teeth over the tiny rounded point, then Sam clears his throat, and you look over your shoulder at him.

“How you doin’, little girl? You ready to do a little more?” Sam asks in a low voice, his hand reaching out and caressing the curve of your ass.

You whimper at his touch, but obediently answer, “Good; yes, Sam.”

Dean groans, and his hips continue to roll.

“You’re doin’ so good, little girl. Lick the palm of your hand; get it good and wet, and take Dean in your hand… _Slowly_.”

Doing just as Sam asked, you bring your hand up to your mouth and slick it up with your tongue. Dean’s eyes zero in on your mouth, and if possible, his pupils blow just a little bit further.

With your slick hand you, _very_ _gently_ , wrap your hand around Dean’s needy cock. From experience, you know what this is like: what it’s like to know you have to wait and hold back an orgasm that wants to tear itself right through you. When you touch Dean, even though your touch is soft and light, he squeezes his eyes shut and another groan comes out of his mouth.

Sam told you to move slowly. Of course you follow his instruction, but you know how difficult this is; the waiting, the build-up…the _want_ , so you keep your grip loose. Still, the muscles on the insides of Dean’s thighs clench every time you pump your hand up and down him, and he, too, has a layer of sweat building up on his chest, neck, and brow.

As you work your loose fist over Dean’s over-sensitive cock, Sam puts his hand between your legs and drags a finger through your slit, circling your clit just once. You gasp and whimper at the unexpected touch. Dean moans.

In a dark tone, Sam says, “Someone’s enjoying themselves.” When you look back at him, he’s sitting back down in his chair, licking your slick off his finger and grinning at you dangerously. “Keep going.”

Dean’s entire body is covered with sweat. His mouth is hanging open; he’s wrecked and holding his breath. With your hand still working slowly over him, taking mercy by steering clear of the sensitive tip, you lean over to Dean’s ear and whisper, “Dean, you gotta breathe; holding your breath is just going to make it worse.” His green eyes pop open and look up at you. “ _Breathe_ ,” you repeat softly.

“Can’t.” Dean grits out.

“Yes, you can.” You slow your hand way down. “You’re not gonna come.” Your hand stops jacking him off and squeezes the base of his cock. He groans while thrusting his hips up. “I won’t let you.”

Sam clears his throat, and you feel his hand rubbing the curve of your ass from behind you. “Did I _say_ you could stop, little girl?”

You look back at Sam and whisper, “No, Sam.”

He smacks your ass sharply. Both you and Dean groan. “Keep.” _Smack_. “Going.” _SMACK!_ “Or are we done here?”

Dean’s eyes flick open, and a small half-whine-half-growl comes out of his mouth. Sam’s firm expression doesn’t falter. Your ass is stinging, but you answer, “No, Sam.”

He rubs the pink hand print on your ass that you know is the exact likeness of Sam’s right hand. “Are you going to do as I say?” He’s using _that_ voice again: the one that is just a touch darker than the sexy-as-hell voice he used earlier. It makes you shiver, and you nod your head. _Smack!_ His hand comes down on your ass again. “I _said_ , are you, _little girl_ , going to do,” he pauses to spank you again, “As. I. Say?”

“Yes, Sam,” you answer, then drag in a breath through your teeth when he thumbs the second hand print on your ass.

“Good girl.” After grazing his hand, one more time, over the spank-warmed skin of your ass, that has you moaning, Sam sits back down in his chair. “Your hand doesn’t stop unless _I_ say it does. _Keep_ going.”

“Yes, Sam,” you say again, and it comes out more as a moan than actual words. Sam nods his head, and you turn your attention back to Dean.

“Don’t do that again,” Dean whispers and whines when your hand wraps around his cock again. “Seeing _that_ did _not_ help.”

You chuckle softly, reach up with your mouth and kiss just below Dean’s sternum. “I bet not.”

“Dean, care to share with the rest of the class?” Sam uses Dean’s words from before against him with a smirk.

“No,” Dean grunts and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Use both hands, little girl. Get your palm nice and wet, and jack him off with _both_ hands,” Sam says in that dark voice.

“ _Fuck_.” Dean’s hands grip the cotton pillow case tighter, and he groans when he sees you lick your second hand. His eyes watch your hand leave your mouth and wrap around the top half of his cock.

You’ve been purposely avoiding Dean’s sensitive tip, and it seems Sam’s caught on to that, so you slowly move your fists over his cock in opposite directions. Knowing what waiting like this is like, you try to keep your fists as loose as possible, but you also know that when it gets to _this point_ , the slightest touch is maddening. Once again, Dean’s eyes squeeze closed, and he presses his head further back into the pillow.

The sight of Dean makes your mind start to wander. Sam was right, you _are_ enjoying yourself; even though, as always, Sam’s calling the shots, it’s not very often that _you’re_ the one doing the teasing. Also, knowing that Sam’s watching and _very clearly_ turned on by what you’re doing and following his instructions, you’re also turned on because of the anticipation. Sam _never_ plays without a plan, and the thought of how this is going to end has you aching.

It’s when Sam’s hand finds its way between your kneeling legs again, and his pointer and middle fingers slide on either side of your clit, do you start to focus again, and when you do, you jump and squeeze a little bit on Dean’s dick. Dean groans loudly, and his hips roll up off his bed.

Sam presses himself into your back and whispers in your ear, “I wanna fuck you so hard right now, little girl.” Your eyes close, and you breathe out a hitched breath while your head falls forward so your chin rests on your naked chest. Sam’s fingers stop for just a second, but only so they can slide inside you. “Move your hands faster.”

“Y-yes, Sam,” you whimper, and Sam’s fingers move in and out of your dripping hole, matching the same speed your hands move up and down Dean’s cock. You open your eyes again, and Dean’s eyes are locked on yours, but you tear them away to look back at Sam, whose face you can feel is right next to yours.

Sam kisses down your cheek and nibbles at your jaw. “Spread your knees apart.” Sam’s fingers stop moving inside you, but they press against your g-spot. Your back arches, your hands involuntarily squeeze Dean again. He arches up off the bed with a loud groan, but he doesn’t come, and you weakly spread your knees.

“Very good, little girl.” Sam bites down on your shoulder, then licks and sucks away the sting. “Now, take one hand off Dean’s cock and rub your clit while you jack him off, but go slow; you don’t get to come until _I_ say.”

Nodding your head, you murmur, “Yes, Sam.” When you take a hand away from Dean and bring it down between your legs, Sam removes his fingers from your aching pussy, drags them backward, up to the crack of your ass and swirls over your tight opening. “S-sa-am,” you whine when the pad of Sam’s finger circles your rim.

“Keep your fingers moving, little girl,” Sam whispers in your ear, “And don’t forget about Dean.” You nod your head and try to say ‘yes, Sam,’ but it comes out in barely a moan – Sam mercifully lets it go. “You wanna come, little girl?”

Dean’s letting out one constant moan right along with you as he’s watching what Sam’s doing to you, and your hand is still clumsily jacking him off. All you can manage for an answer is another whimper and a nod of your head.

With the just the tip of his finger, soaked in your slick, Sam just barely presses his finger inside your ass, and then slowly takes it back out again. “Slide your fingers down and fuck yourself with them just a couple of times,” Sam rasps in your ear and nibbles on your earlobe.

When you obey, you arch your back against Sam and cry out. Your hand on Dean’s cock is barely moving, but Dean’s hips are still fucking up into your fist.

“Fuck; you’re doin’ so good, little girl. You can stop, but keep working your hand over Dean’s cock. Almost done.”

Dean whimpers. Sam takes his hand away and sits back down in his chair behind you. You breathe heavily through your mouth, trying to catch your breath, and your eyes meet Dean’s. The two of you share a look that is both wrecked and of mutual commiseration, but your hand keeps moving up and down; Dean’s constant stream of precome slicking the way.

After another minute, it’s clear Dean’s having a _much_ more difficult time than you, so you shift to his side and bend down so you can whisper in his ear and continue jacking him off. “Distract yourself.”

“Am,” Dean whines. “Can’t…”

“Yes, you can.” Your hand keeps moving, and your center keeps throbbing. “Almost done.”

Dean blows out a breath and nods his head.

You whisper again, “‘A’ is for _angels_ , ‘B’ is for _Black Dog_ , ‘C’ is for _Crocotta_ , ‘D’ is for _Djinn_ …”

Dean squeezes his eyes shut and nods his head, understanding your distraction. “‘E’ _Ectoplasm_ , ‘F’ _Fairies_ , ‘G’ _Ghost_ , ‘H’ _Hellhound_ , ‘I’… Shit, oh, _fuck_ , can’t… ‘I’ is for…”

“ _Idjit_?” Sam offers in a smart-ass tone. Dean glares at his brother. Sam just smirks.

“There’s only one ‘I’,” you say, trying to ignore Sam’s smirk. “But if you say it, we’ll be done.” Dean shakes his head, and you continue. “‘J’ is for…”

“‘J’ is for… _Jesus Christ_ , dammit, pleas --” But Dean stops, he _won’t_ beg.

“ _Jefferson Starships_ ,” you finish for him, then loosen your grip, and slow your hand way down. “‘K’ is for --”

“Kay, little girl,” Sam interrupts. "You can stop."

You immediately obey. Dean practically growls, and his cock twitches and leaks in your hand.

There’s a second of nothing, except for three sets of heavy breathing and thick anticipation.

“Make him come, little girl.”

Instantly, your hand wraps around Dean’s throbbing cock. All it takes is two more pumps of your hand, and Dean’s dick is spurting all over your fist, on his stomach, and chest. You gasp and whimper longingly at the sight, and the noise he makes is a cross between a growl, a grunt, and a deep groan.

One of his hands releases its death grip on the pillow case and reaches for your shoulder, but at the last minute he must remember what Sam said, _No touching_ , because his fist wraps around the blanket on his bed.

While your hand works Dean through his orgasm, you look up at Sam and wordlessly ask him for permission, knowing that some sort of contact after _playing_ like this is necessary. Sam nods his head.

Dean’s still writhing on the bed, moaning, coming down, and breathing almost erratically. You pull the sheet up from the floor, cover Dean with it, and run your fingers over the side of his sweaty face.

“Shh, just breathe.” You kiss his stubbly cheek and pet his sweaty hair, and his breathing starts to even out.

After a few minutes of lying next to Dean, running your fingers up and down his arm – from his shoulder to his fingertips – a sated laugh comes out of his mouth. “Fuck… I need a beer.”

“Just _one_?” You laugh and playfully smack him in the shoulder.

He smirks. “ _Maybe_ two.”

Before you can say anything back, you squeal when Sam scoops you up off Dean’s bed and tosses you over his shoulder.

Two seconds later, Sam tosses you onto his bed. His clothes are practically torn off, and he’s plastered over you. “Fuck, little girl, you did so good. Wasn’t sure if I could wait until I got you in _my_ bed.”

When you open your mouth to tell Sam how much you want him, he attacks your mouth and kisses you hard. His hands are everywhere: in your hair, on your face, pulling you closer to him, grabbing your breasts, and grinding your hips against his solid cock.

“Please…” You beg between his kisses, wrapping your knees around Sam’s hips and pawing at his back, pulling him even closer to you with your hands.

Leaning away from you, just enough to get his hand between the two of you and between your legs, Sam slips his fingers between your slick lips and easily slides two fingers into your aching pussy. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

“Need you,” you whimper and push your hips up against his hand.

In return, he adds a third thick finger. “Shit,” Sam groans, fucking you with his fingers and stretching you out. “You could come just like this couldn’t you?”

You nod your head. “Yes, Sam, please. I need to. Please, let me come.”

You watch with heavy eyes when Sam steals his hand away and gives his throbbing cock a couple pumps, smearing your wetness and his ample precome along his shaft. “Not yet, little girl. Been wanting to fuck you this whole time; not yet.”

He pushes himself up on his knees and spreads your legs wide so he can see _all_ of you. Dipping the head of his rigid cock just barely into you, makes you whine and beg for more, but he works slowly, inch by inch, until he’s bottomed out. Sam groans loudly when you clench around him, then he _finally_ starts to move.

Sam grunts. You beg. His hips move slowly as one of his hands leave your knee, and his fingers brush against your mouth, graze over your neck, and trail down to your nipples. He rolls one with his fingers while his mouth seizes the other, and all you can do is continue to beg.

Sam’s tongue laps at your sensitive skin, while his teeth nibble and bite, and when his mouth leaves your chest, his hands wrap around your hips and pull you into his thrusts. It takes a minute, which seems to last forever, until it’s just as he promised: _hard_.

Once again, Sam’s draped over you, his hips pound into you at that perfect angle, while your hands grab handfuls of his back.

“Sam,” you practically sob his name through deep gasps. “Please…”

“Yeah, fuck.” He continues to slam into you, the sound of his skin slapping into yours loud in the air. “C’mon, little girl. Come for me.”

As soon as he says the words, he fucks you so hard and deep that the things on the nightstand rattle; everything goes white and it’s just _Sam_.

He’s all over you, inside and out, and when he feels your core clench around him, he growls your name. Under your hands, you feel every muscle in his body go taut when he comes, and he pulls you so tight to him, it almost hurts… _almost._

Sam reaches for your mouth at the same time you seek out his, and the kiss is frenzied with lips, tongue, and teeth. With both your bodies lost in undeniable pleasure, you cling to each other while working each other through your orgasms.

Still inside you, Sam continues to hold you tight as he rolls you both over, so he’s on his back with you on top of him. He gently pulls you up, so he slides out of you, and tucks your face under his chin. Taking one hand from your back, he flips the blanket on the bed over the both of you, and together you just lie there until you each catch your breath and slowly come back to yourselves.

When you can finally move again, you nuzzle Sam’s neck and kiss his skin with a little tongue so you can finally taste him the way you’ve wanted to this whole time.

Sam knows what you’re doing, and he chuckles softly while his arms stay wrapped around you, and his thumbs make circles into your skin. “You did so good, ______.”

He didn’t use ‘little girl’ or any variation of it, so you know you can answer him with a whispered sated moan.

Sam chuckles quietly again. “It’s hot as hell when you do exactly as I say.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah.” Sam turns his head so he can kiss you again. “Watching you do _only_ what I said, but _you_ in control…” He groans grinds his hips up into you, and kisses you again. “Hot as hell, and I, _for one_ , want to see it again.” You lift your head up from Sam’s chest so you can look at him, and instead of saying anything, you just cock your eyebrow. Sam smirks and reaches up to kiss it. “What about you, _little girl?"_

You kiss his jaw, his cheek, pause by his ear, and whisper, “Yes, Sam.”


End file.
